


Miss Pentangle’s Seminar For The Modern Magic Teacher

by amycarey



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Stupid teaching jargon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amycarey/pseuds/amycarey
Summary: Cackle’s Academy has to update their teaching practices into something more closely resembling the 21st century. Ada still thinks Friendship Traps are an acceptable teaching tool. Hecate berates students when under stress. And the less said about Miss Bat’s teaching practice the better.Clearly, an expert must be called in to help. Enter Pippa Pentangle.





	Miss Pentangle’s Seminar For The Modern Magic Teacher

Hecate Hardbroom is fairly certain she is having a nervous breakdown. 

It is three days before the new school term starts, before Mildred Hubble and her gang of miscreants return to wreak havoc upon the hallowed halls of Cackle’s Academy and Pippa--beautiful Pippa, perfect Pippa,  _ pink _ Pippa--is standing in front of the staff, hat at a jaunty angle, at the front of the Chanting classroom. 

“Well, to start,” she says, smiling around at the collection of witches assembled, “do you think we can move these desks into a horseshoe shape? Much more conducive to frank and open discussion.” And she flicks her hands, the desks moving with the swish of her hands. Hecate, whose knees are wedged under the tiny desk made for a first year girl, stumbles along with her own desk as it moves. 

Dimity laughs, and she contemplates murder. Pippa, curse her, stifles a giggle behind her hand. 

When Mrs Hallow resumed her position on the Wizarding Council she did so with grand ideas taken from Esme’s stint in non-magical education. Hecate should have seen this as a terrible portent of what was to come. “Cackle’s Academy is set far too firmly in the past,” Mrs Hallow had proclaimed. “Modern pedagogical practice would be the very thing for our girls.”

“Pedagogi-what?” Miss Bat had asked, nose wrinkling in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

And so Pippa had been hired to train the Cackle’s staff in techniques of Twenty-first Century Teaching and Learning. 

They sit there, in the sweltering hot classroom, a window cracked to let just a tease of breeze in. Hecate feels as gangly and awkward as she did all those years ago when she was a student herself and this might possibly be her nightmare, the one where she shows up in class and doesn’t know the answers. She looks down at herself, reassured at least that she’s dressed in black, not polka-dot pyjamas. 

“During this workshop, I want to model good pedagogical practice.” Pippa beams around the circle of dubious witches. “We’ll start with an ice breaker. Tell us your name and an adjective that describes you that starts with the same letter. I’m Pippa and I’m peppy!”

Not a nightmare then. Just her own personal hell. 

 

***

 

“It wasn’t so bad today, was it?” Pippa says when Hecate opens the door to her quarters and finds her there, two mugs in hand. “Here, tea.”

“Oh--” Hecate wraps her dressing gown more closely around herself and takes the mug. She had been all too aware of Pippa in the next room, wondering whether she would visit, knowing she would not be the one to make that first move. “Come in, I suppose.”

Pippa slips past her, claiming Hecate’s favourite armchair, the one closest to the fire (even though the grate is empty, it being far too warm for a fire right now) and tucking her slippered feet beneath her. “Your room’s--” she pauses, looking around at the stark space.

“Very me,” Hecate says dryly, and Pippa laughs.

“Sit down, dear Hiccup,” she says.

“You stole my chair,” Hecate grumbles but she takes the other armchair, deliberately uncomfortable so as to ward off prolonged visits. Ada has taken to bringing her own cushion when she visits for late night tea. “Today wasn’t so bad.” They had mostly covered lesson planning in the first day’s workshops, writing clear lesson objectives and building in checks for formative understanding to the activities, all of which was still mostly within Hecate’s comfort zones. 

(She had balked at cooperative learning, however. “Sending students into Hallow Wood for supplies doesn’t count as cooperative learning,” Pippa had told her most firmly, when she had read Hecate’s list of examples where she’d used it in the potions class before. 

“Oh, well done, Dimity!” Pippa had said, moving on to reading Dimity’s extensive notes. Dimity’s chest had puffed up and Hecate had tried--and failed--to hide her disgust.)

Pippa smiles, bringing her mug up to her lips. Her hair is free from its usual ponytail, falling in silky waves around her shoulders, and she seems softer without her usual bright pink lipstick. Hecate touches her own loose hair compulsively, wishing she could pull it back. She feels unmoored, out of control, like this, with Pippa. “I don’t like seeing you in that Hallow woman’s pocket,” she admits softly.

“Oh, Hecate,” Pippa says. “I dislike her interference as much as you do, but, well, Cackle’s could benefit from some newer approaches to--”

“Say pedagogy again, I dare you,” Hecate says, and Pippa laughs. 

“I should go,” she says, reaching forward to touch Pippa’s cheek, just a brush of velvet fingertips, and it’s moments like this that make Hecate’s heart hope wildly and then break. Hecate tenses and Pippa pulls away, smiling, though her eyes are sad. “Drink your tea. I didn’t poison it.” She fades with a flick of her wrist and a burst of magic, and Hecate brings the mug to her lips.

Pippa has remembered how she takes her tea.

 

***

 

All fond feelings towards Pippa disappear the next day when, after the starter activity ( _ List three things you learned yesterday _ ), she uses a phrase that fills Hecate’s very soul with dread. “Today we’re going to focus on having difficult conversations instead of giving punishments,” she says, smiling merrily. “I’d like us to try some role-playing.”

Hecate attempts to stand and storm out, but is hampered by the ridiculous desk. “I. Don’t. Role-play,” she hisses.

“I seem to recall you had some talent for acting,” Pippa says.

Hecate’s cheeks flush red and the memory of their school show in her second year, of dressing as the villainous princess in a too-tight crown, torturing the poor, innocent witch played by Pippa.

“She’s melodramatic enough for it,” Dimity says under her breath.

“Now, now,” Ada says, and for a brief and shining moment Hecate thinks she has an ally, but Ada’s smiling as well.

Hecate is alone in this cruel world. 

So Hecate sits in sullen silence while Pippa explains about Restoring the Relationship and Never Asking Why Questions and Using I Statements and all sorts of other ridiculous nonsense when, clearly, giving a detention is much more practical and time-saving in the long run. 

Dimity roleplays a conversation with a student--played by Pippa--who refuses to play Witch Ball. “Now, Pippa, who else is being impacted by your decision not to participate?” Dimity asks, and Pippa practically goes wild.

“Excellent!” she says. “We have to get our students to consider the consequences of their behaviour on all those around them.”

Ada is chastised for suggesting a friendship trap to deal with a bully and her victim--and Hecate tries very hard not to feel smug about this. She’d not agreed with Ada’s approach to Ethel Hallow and Mildred Hubble. If her headmistress had trapped her with one of those insipid girls from her childhood… Well, she has had years to repress feelings about this. 

Miss Bat and Mister Rowan-Webb have no idea what is happening. Pippa appears to give up on them after several minutes of confused, convoluted and, frankly, embarrassing, role-play. 

And then it’s Hecate’s turn. “Imagine I have just turned another student into a pig,” Pippa says.

Hecate stands in front of Pippa, draws herself up to her full height, crosses her arms. “Oh, this is nonsense,” she mutters.

“It wasn’t my  _ fault _ , Miss Hardbroom!” Pippa says, getting into character, voice pitching higher, an irritating pout forming on her lips.

“It never is,” Hecate mutters. “Whatever possessed you to--”

“Remember, cool, calm, controlled,” Pippa says. She slumps into a chair, arms crossed obstinately, the perfect facsimile of an obnoxious second year. “I’m not talking to  _ you  _ about it.”

Hecate counts to ten, slowly. Then she sits down. “Please explain to me what led to your classmate being turned into a pig, Miss Pentangle,” she says through gritted teeth. Her fingers tap against her arms.

“I didn’t even--she said I had a terrible chanting voice,” Pippa snivels.

“And you thought, what? This was a reasonable reaction?” Hecate’s fingers tap irritably against her arms. She breathes deeply through her nose. 

“Calming thoughts, Hecate,” Ada murmurs from the sideline. 

“It wasn’t my  _ fault _ !” Pippa says.

And that about does it for Hecate. “You are a ridiculous individual, Mildred Hubble! Detention for a week.”

Pippa sighs. “Oh,  _ Hiccup _ .”

Dimity is positively gleeful and even Ada cannot conceal her delight. This time Hecate disappears with a flick of her hand.

 

***

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Pippa says. She’s standing at the door again, this time holding a biscuit tin. Her dressing gown is pink plaid and her hair is braided over one shoulder. “I never meant--” She holds out the biscuit tin and,  _ damnit _ , lavender shortbread. Her one weakness.

“You might as well come in,” Hecate says. Irritatingly, Pippa sits in Hecate’s chair again and this time Morgana curls up on her lap, purring. Pippa scritches her behind the ears and murmurs. 

“You know, it’s not so bad,” Pippa says, “talking with the students.”

“I have not your way with making students like me,” Hecate says stiffly. She busies herself making tea, something to do with her hands.

“Perhaps that’s why you should practice,” Pippa says, and takes a piece of shortbread. Hecate drums her fingers anxiously against her desk, while the tea steeps. “Oh, take some,” Pippa says, obviously noticing Hecate’s eyes drawn to the biscuit tin. “I know it’s your favourite.” 

“You know me well,” Hecate says. She’s aiming for sarcasm, but it comes out all too sincere, and then Pippa clasps her hand when she reaches for the shortbread.

“I’m so glad I do,” she says, and there’s something alarmingly intent in her gaze and Hecate cannot breathe with Pippa’s hand in hers. Pippa’s fingernails are short and painted pink and her hands are so  _ soft _ . “But, oh Hecate, I worry for you.”

She pulls her hand away and takes a piece of shortbread. “I’m fine. Tea?”

For a moment, she thinks Pippa might look disappointed, but her frown quickly smooths to a smile. “Please. Three sugars.”

“I know.” There are a thousand things she wants to say.  _ Who else would drink tea so sickly it’s almost caramel? You always were a little too sweet. I could never forget anything about you, Pipsqueak. _ Instead, she pours the tea, her hand shaking. “Just tell me there is strictly no roleplay tomorrow.”

 

***

 

There is no roleplay in the third and final session. Instead, much of the time is spent discussing differentiation. “We need to create an inclusive classroom, one which caters to a diverse range of learning needs and styles,” Pippa tells them.

Ada is nodding along. Dimity is taking notes, tongue poking out between her lips. Miss Bat has fallen asleep. Hecate can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Problem, Miss Hardbroom?” Pippa asks, and her tone is icier than usual. 

“I fail to understand how  _ catering  _ to underachievers will in any way improve standards at Cackle’s,” she says.

“I fail to understand how you can hope to improve standards at Cackle’s  _ without _ catering to your underachievers,” Pippa says. “Mildred Hubble, for instance--”

“--is doing very well, thank you,” Hecate says sharply. “Thanks to treating her the same as everyone else.”

“Or what about Sybil Hallow?”

“Might I remind you that your efforts in teaching more  _ modern  _ magic to both those students ended in disaster?”

“I’m not talking about modern  _ magic _ ,” Pippa snaps. Blotchy pink spots form on her cheeks. “I’m talking about the fact that Mildred may very well have a learning disability and that Sybil’s anxiety about performing magic requires a differentiated curric--”

Hecate stands at this, fingers clenched into fists at her sides. “Don’t you  _ dare _ presume to tell me I don’t care--”

Pippa is standing too, her own fists clenched, her jaw set in a determined angry line. “I’m not saying--”

Ada coughs. “I think this is unproductive. Shall we take  break for cream buns?”

 

***

 

Pippa doesn’t visit her that night, her final night in the school, and Hecate doesn’t sleep over much, too aware of Pippa on the other side of the wall. Is she tossing and turning as well? Or is she sleeping soundly, the sleep of someone who is not as affected by a little fight as Hecate is?

She thinks she misses Pippa. She’s all too used to that feeling, though it’s been a while since she’s felt it so strongly. 

 

***

 

The school term starts and Hecate pretends that she doesn’t have time to think about Pippa.

She doesn’t have time to think about Pippa when Maud Spellbody raises her hand in confusion at the Learning Objective written on the chalkboard. “What’s that?”

“It’s a...learning...objective,” Hecate says, the words  _ you foolish child _ remaining unspoken. Maud does not speak for the rest of the lesson.

She doesn’t have time to think about Pippa at dinner while Dimity burbles on about her first day of classes. “I tried Miss Pentangle’s suggestion of pairing weak flyers with strong flyers. Sybil Hallow improved dramatically in just one lesson!”

Hecate looks across at Sybil, who is smiling into her stew. She’s never seen the anxious little girl look so pleased with herself. 

She certainly doesn’t have time to think about Pippa when she’s doing her rounds. Moonlight paints the stone walls with silver and she remembers sneaking out of her own school--not dissimilar to Cackle’s--to look at the stars more times than she can remember. Sometimes  _ she _ would come and they would lie on the blanket, their heads touching, Pippa’s casual touch against Hecate’s body setting off fireworks. 

She is broken from her reverie by a distant clatter and a muffled curse.

“Mildred Hubble!” she exclaims, as she transports herself to the source of the noise. “Explain yourself immediately!”

Mildred is surrounded by glass from a broken window and she has that pinched guilty look with which Hecate has become unnervingly familiar. “I--I just wanted to get out to look at the stars.”

“We’re five storeys up!”

“Oh,” Mildred says, and she bites her lip. “Yeah. I didn’t really think about that.”

It would be so easy to just set detention and be done with it, but perhaps Pippa’s not  _ entirely _ wrong. It won’t solve Mildred’s problems with impulsivity. Sighing, Hecate conjures two chairs. “Sit.”

“What?”

“Do  _ not  _ make me repeat myself,” she says, drawing in a deep breath. “Mildred Hubble, you are growing into a reasonably competent witch but your behaviour--it has an impact on everyone around you.”

Mildred sighs. “I can’t help it. I just get, I don’t know, distracted?” She fiddles with the end of her braid.

“Then we will meet tomorrow and figure out a plan to help manage this...foolishness.” Hecate waves her hand at the shattered glass. What else was it that Pippa had said? I statements? “I was concerned and frustrated when I saw the broken glass. You have been lucky not to have been seriously hurt yet.” 

“I’m sorry, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred says. 

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Be better. Go to bed.”

“What?” Mildred asks, eyebrows furrowing. “No detention cleaning frogspawn from test tubes? No thousand lines reading ‘I must not break windows’?”

“Would you like that? I am happy to oblige.”

“No,” Mildred says hastily. “Thank you, Miss Hardbroom.” And she practically runs back to her dormitory.

Hecate lets out a deep breath. She feels… calm? This never happens after an encounter with the menace that is Mildred Hubble. 

Pippa is going to have a field day. She must never, ever know. 

 

***

 

Still, she asks Ada for the next evening off. “I have an...errand to attend to.”

Ada’s smile is a little too knowing when she agrees. “Send Miss Pentangle my regards,” she says. “Her workshop has been most helpful.”

The flight to Pentangle’s is short, just long enough to give Hecate a nervous breakdown. She’s making a terrible mistake. Pippa doesn’t want to see her. They’re not really friends, after all. She’s imposing.

Still, she lands on the glossy fields of Pentangle’s Academy, brushing down her tight skirts and striding forward, feigning the confidence she absolutely does not feel. She has barely reached the front doors when Pippa appears before her, dressed in her usual pink. “Well met, Miss Hardbroom,” she says, saluting and bowing, although there is a certain frostiness in her voice.

“Well met, Pippa,” Hecate says. 

Pippa guides her to her study, a plush room, all varnished wood, fluffy cushions and tasteful artwork. Hecate sits, back utterly erect, on a sofa made for reclining. “Tea?” Pippa asks. Hecate pauses. “Or something a little stronger?”

Hecate inclines her head, and Pippa takes down a bottle of Witch’s Brew from a high shelf. “Thank you,” she says, and takes a sip, the liquor burning.

“Did you come here for a reason, Hecate?”

“I--” she sighs, grimaces. “I came to… apologise. Your methods are not entirely without worth.”

Pippa sighs. “Hiccup, I’m not trying to make you be more like me. You’re so brilliant and your students all respect you, but some of them--all of them really--are afraid of you.”

“I like that,” Hecate grumbles. Then, she says, “I tried your  _ conversation _ thing.” 

“How’d it go?”

“Mildred Hubble thinks I’ve taken a personality change potion.”

Pippa laughs at that. “Oh,  _ Hiccup _ ,” she says, and takes Hecate’s hand in hers, her palms soft. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I--” Hecate’s throat feels tight. This whatever-it-is, it feels so new, and yet it’s been bubbling around inside her since forever, since Pippa Pentangle, with the blonde pigtails and the broad smile, first bounced up to her at school and introduced herself. Pippa’s words now make her feel like crying. “I don’t like feeling stupid.”

“That’s the last thing anyone thinks,” Pippa says. Her eyes are soft and she leans forward and the warmth of the few sips of Witch’s Brew warms Hecate’s belly. She’s never had much tolerance for the stuff “Hecate, you must know that I think--” 

And perhaps Hecate will blame it on the alcohol, perhaps she’ll blame it on the heat in the room, on Pippa’s eyes shining with promise, but she leans forward and kisses her. Pippa’s lips are soft and she smells like strawberries and--oh God! What is she doing?

She pulls back immediately, horrified at her foolishness, but Pippa isn’t upset. Instead, she’s smiling and she wraps an arm around Hecate’s neck and pulls her back towards her, mouth tilted into a smile. 

 

***

 

The next day, Hecate nearly gives poor Sybil Hallow a nervous breakdown. 

“A great effort, Sybil Hallow,” she says, looking over her shoulder into her potion, and smiling. “Interesting use of newt’s skin to counter the aftertaste.”

She pretends not to notice the other second year students stare, but a small smile plays the corner of her lips. 

Perhaps there’s something to be said for modern pedagogical practices after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the wonderful writers in this fandom. It's all so damn good! Also, thanks to Swati who talked me through this!


End file.
